


Judgement Knit

by TheWritingSquid



Series: Rebirth [2]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Gen, Grandadgil and Dadgil, Knitting Vergil, Same AU as Rebirth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 18:20:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21414577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritingSquid/pseuds/TheWritingSquid
Summary: Hidden in the Devil May Cry van with Nico, Vergil knits a blanket for his future grandchild.
Relationships: Nico & Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Series: Rebirth [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629973
Comments: 42
Kudos: 233





	Judgement Knit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vhascometo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vhascometo/gifts).

> I wrote this for Dadgil Week and I'm tagging it for it even though it turned out to be waay less about Nero & Vergil, and more about Vergil & New Family in general. It's still full of Granddadgil feels soooo
> 
> This is part of the same AU as Rebirth but contains no major spoilers for the story itself. So if you want to reassure yourself that they all make it through, welcome to this Domestic Fluff TM. Fresh out of the oven, fwiw, so it might be rougher than usual.
> 
> Huge shoutout to my bestie [Vhascometo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vhascometo) for the pun title!!

It looked easy on video. Nico swore that if 50 year old ladies could learn how to put tutorials on Youtube about it, then he damn well could learn to knit. So he had gone out with her last week and bought thick needles and fluffy wool--one pale blue and one white. He had left his supplies in the Devil May Cry van, in a cupboard behind Nico's counter, which was in theory "totally off limits to that punk". Which was good, because the last thing Vergil wanted was for Nero to randomly fall upon the baby blanket before he was done knitting it--_if _he ever managed to finish the accursed thing.

This was his sixth attempt. He had managed almost thirty rows once, only to make a mistake, and that was entirely unacceptable. He would not accept anything less than perfection for his grandchild. The sir at the arts and crafts shop had promised a baby blanket was an easy and worthwhile project to start with, if one had a bit of patience, and Nico had snorted at that. Vergil would've sworn she'd muttered something along the of "no one in this goddamn family knows what that means", but he chose to ignore it and reassure the seller a long project would not be an issue, as he was very motivated to see it through. The man smiled kindly at both of them, and then wished Nico a healthy pregnancy.

The girl had laughed all the way back to Nero's home. 

He had to admit, the idea anyone would mistake Nico for a child of his held great humour, but when he found out she was still chuckling about it hours later, Vergil was mildly miffed by it. They had little in common, perhaps, but must she truly find it _ that _ absurd? It made him feel like _ he _was the laughing matter. When it happened again the following day (he wished to buy a second pair of needles to test the effect of size changes) with another employee, Vergil could not help but comment on it.

"I do not see why the possibility of being of my descent is this amusing to you."

Nico barked a quick laugh and pushed at his shoulder. He hissed and glared at her--sudden touch had grown easier, but he still disliked it.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, old man. It ain't about you." She popped open the van door and hopped in. "God I wish you were my dad. You might not win any awards, but you're still miles ahead of what I got instead. But nope. Mine's an asshole, no questions asked."

He'd had no answer to that--not until he had sat down hours later with his knitting project in the van and remembered Nero treated her the way he would a sister, and that would make her his daughter of sorts, and perhaps he should have said that. It was a strange thought, albeit not an unpleasant one. He had grown to love the way Nero added others to his family, and how that expanded Vergil's own circle. When Vergil's family had been cut off from him, he'd discarded every part of himself he considered a weakness and honed his skills to claim his father's power and legacy--to shoulder it alone, defeat Mundus, and protect himself. Nero had never had a family, so he'd built himself one instead--through Kyrie and her brother, the three orphans and Nico, and eventually even Dante and him, actual blood relatives. Vergil would always marvel at Nero's strength in this regard; it took a special kind of fortitude to keep your heart open despite everything he'd endured.

It was over now, hopefully. Demons might rear their heads once more, but Nero would have a baby to care for and everyone had quietly agreed to front the majority of the hunts on his behalf. Nero had caught wind of their plans, but instead of telling them all off for it, he'd seemed… relieved. As if he hadn't dared ask for it. Vergil suspected he hadn't decided and was glad for them to take it out of his hands. After what had happened…

Vergil wrenched his thoughts away from that path and focused on the baby blanket. Knitting had proven a surprisingly good activity to keep himself grounded and his mind away from anxious spiralling. Left to his own devices, he had a tendency to revisit the worst years of his life, to dwell on mistakes and consequences that had already left indelible marks into him until he had convinced himself once more that his current peace wouldn’t last. It was harder to do so when he dedicated so much of his mental energy to the rhythm of _ knit-knit-purl-purl_, and Vergil found that if he had anything else to occupy the rest of his mind--typically Nicoletta’s ramblings or his most recent modern discovery, audiobooks--hours could pass him by and he’d barely notice.

The advantage of his repeated attempts was that by the seventh (and hopefully, maybe, final) go at this baby blanket, Vergil’s knitting had become substantially better and more uniform. The tension in each stitch was constant, the change of colour from pale blue to white elegant, and he had now managed over a foot of baby blanket without a single mistake. Vergil reached the end of a chapter and paused the audiobook to contemplate his handiwork. It would be beautiful and warm, and he could not help but run his fingers over the rib pattern created. 

Nicoletta leaned over his work, her hair falling and obscuring his view. "You gonna get to the end without starting over, V-Man? Ya only got like five months to finish it ya know."

"I stand a better chance of it if you stop obscuring my sight." He gestured for her to pull back and she did so with a huff. 

"Could just stop freakin' out over the slightest mishap, too. They gonna love it anyway."

"Perhaps, but my grandchild deserves nothing short of perfection." And he would give it to them, no matter how long it took him. 

Nico snorted and kicked back in the sofa next to him, beer in hand. "Too bad they're stuck with Nero, then. But hey, that still leaves one perfect parent for the lil' bean!"

Vergil turned his best glare upon her, but he knew better than to jump to Nero's defence. Nicoletta was baiting him; it had worked once, when she had casually implied to him Nero might not be up to baby-care, and he had bristled like an angry bear. They'd yet to let him forget, and Nico had started a list of Ancient One Commandments to be respected, marking them on the house's white board, with "One Shall Not Speak Ill of the Progeny" at the top. It had taken Nero half a minute to add "One Shall Not Declare the Twin 'Up One'" to the list, and upon learning about it, Dante had required his own addition, "One Shall Be Up Their Asses About the Poet"--which, in Vergil's opinion, was an entirely unfair reaction because he'd snapped at Dante the previous night about mocking Blake.

"Kyrie would be pleased to hear you," Vergil replied in an even, careful tone. "Even if I am sure she would disagree with your assessment of Nero's worth."

"But you don't?"

Sometimes, Nico needed to learn a lesson. Perhaps he ought to show her the consequences of breaking the first Ancient One commandment. Vergil raised his eyebrows in a judgemental frown and went on the offensive.

"Of course not. Neither Kyrie nor Nero are perfect parents. After all, when evaluating such things, once must also assess the company the would-be parent keeps." His needles clicked together in cadence with his clipped, dogmatic tone. He never slowed down--purl, purl, knit, knit, purl, purl--forming one stitch after another even as he tightened the noose around Nico. “Thus, it appears inevitable that one must conclude that as long as Kyrie and Nero insist on allowing you within their house, they cannot be considered perfect parents.”

Nico’s expansive laugh filled the DMC van in answer, then she turned to him and placed her index finger in the middle of his forehead. “Listen here, old twig,” she started, pressing harder, “every kid needs a Cool Aunt, and I ain’t gonna take shit from Stiff Gramps ‘bout it. I’m perfect for the role, and you know it, so quit your whining and go buy some peppermints or something.”

"Peppermints," he repeated, his lips quirking in amusement. She mocked him, but he used to be quite fond of them. Nevertheless, he could not accept her finger poking his forehead. Vergil stared back at Nico, never interrupting or slowing his knitting, and let his devil tail form quietly along his back until it could snap forward and wrap around her wrist, pulling it down. "And what, pray tell, would be the point of a Cool Aunt?"

"Easy! I'd help the kid get around dumb curfews imposed on his parents so we could go eat a whole bucket of ice creams while they lay all of their problems on me. Or we could go shopping for whatever shit they're into and I'd enable any and all ill-considered spendings with my own money, thus providing them with a guilt-free spree to lift their moods. Or I could reveal all of Nero's dirty secret so they know how big of a doof their daddy is and don't feel so awkward about themselves anymore. Y'know, that sort of shit."

"I see." 

He wished to say more, but Nico's descriptions had awakened a difficult sadness within him. He recognized the sort of behaviour she described, knew that had he and Dante been there for Nero, then his brother would absolutely have been 'the cool Uncle'. Vergil did his best not to fall into darker thoughts about missed opportunities, but there were times when they became difficult to avoid. He released Nicoletta's wrist and looked down at his blanket--he'd messed up a stitch in the row and gone by without noticing.

"Curses."

He would have to do it again. With a frustrated sigh, Vergil set down his needles. Nicoletta set her hand on his, rolling her eyes.

"Just leave it there, V-man. I ain’t perfect. You’re not perfect. Kyrie and Nero aren’t perfect. Heck, even this baby ain’t gonna be perfect either. We’re all messy people doing our best, and I don’t see why that damn blanket outta be better than all of us.”

Vergil stared at the loose stitch. It glared right back at him. He didn’t want to leave it there, a stain on his otherwise impeccable blanket. He’d already restarted six times, why would he abandon now? Offering an imperfect blanket would be a terrible way to initiate his grandfatherhood. He hadn’t been there for Nero, but he had every intention of holding himself to the highest standards when it came to his grandchild. Anything else was utterly unacceptable.

Nico snorted loudly; his intent to nonetheless undo the blanket and start over must have shown in his expression. “I swear, y’all can’t ever take it easy. You projectin’ on the blanket or some shit? Knit the next row right now, V-man, or I’m never teachin’ you ‘bout the internet ever again.”

“I am not projecting,” he protested, his throat tightening.

“Then prove it and leave the mistake in, old man.”

“These are two entirely unrelated matter. I do not see--”

Nico tapped the needles with a grin. “Leave it in!”

“Don’t be absurd, Nicoletta. Your false--”

Nico started singing, completely burying his voice under the singsong yelling of _ projecting _repeatedly, and he humphed and leaned back into the seat.

“You’re impossible!” he snapped, and yet he picked his needles and knit new stitches, flying through several rows while Nico laughed. He then brandished it, and to him the loose stitch seemed the worst possible offence. “Happy now?”

“You bet!" She threw her arm around his shoulders and he sighed, gritting his teeth through the latent discomfort at any touch and tapping the offending limb so she'd remove it. She did without a word of protest; Nico often forgot, but she never complained about the reminders. She went on as if it hadn't happened at all. "If it's messy, then it's one of us!"

He could not help his huff of disapproval. "We should have chosen something else as a defining trait for this family."

Nico stiffened by his side--a split second, nothing at all, but he noticed all the same, his own mind stunned by his casual inclusion of her in the lot. He added nothing, only kept knitting, and Nico downed the rest of her can. 

"Stuff like that chooses you, V-man," she said. "Now you finish that blanket, and I'll get to fixing this damn flamethrowing breaker."

Vergil turned his audiobook back on as she returned to work, and picked up his knitting without another word. He let his mind return to the reassuring cadence of needles and words and that sweet spot where it could stop plunging down ill-advised pathways and focus entirely on his craft. In a way, knitting opened in him that same sort of space as swordfighting could, minus the bonus of physical exertion, and once he got going, he temporarily forgot about the one loose mail destroying his pattern. It wouldn’t last, and he was liable to lose sleep over it, but for now Vergil was content to keep knitting the baby blanket and imagine his future grandchild wrapped in it.


End file.
